115
Scho ledde hym in at Eldone hill,
Vndir nethe a derne lee;
Whare it was dirk as mydnyght myrke,
And euer the water till his knee.
The montenans of dayes three,
120 He herd bot swoghyne of the flode;
At the laste, he sayde, "full wa es mee!
Almaste I dye, for fawte of fude."
Scho lede hym in till a faire herbere,
Whare frwte was 'growyng in gret plentee;'
125 Pers and appill, bothe rype thay were,
The date, and als the damasee;
The fygge, and als so the wyne-berye;
The nyghtyngales lyggande on thair neste;
The papeioyes faste abowte gan flye;
130 And throstylls sange, wolde hafe no reste.
He pressede to pulle frowte with his hande,
Als man for fude that was nere faynt;
Scho sayd, "Thomas, thu late tham stande,
Or ells the fende the will atteynt.
135 "If thu it plokk, sothely to say,
Thi saule gose to the fyre of helle;
It comes neuer owte or Domesdaye,
Bot ther in payne ay for to duelle.
"Thomas, sothely, I the hyghte,
140 Come lygge thyn hede down on my knee,
And 'thou' sall se the fayreste syghte,
That euer sawe man of thi contree."
He did in hye als scho hym badde;
Appone hir knee his hede he layde,
145 Ffor hir to paye he was full glade,
And than that lady to him sayde—
"Seese thu nowe yone faire waye,
That lyggis ouer yone heghe montayne?—
Yone es the waye to heuen for aye,
150 When synfull sawles are passed ther payne.